


Floating and Bliss

by SkywalkerForever



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Baby Solo, Canon Universe, F/M, Fanart, Fluff and Smut, Inspired by Fanart, One Big Happy Family, Reylo Baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkywalkerForever/pseuds/SkywalkerForever
Summary: Written for the RFR Drabble Me This prompt art "Evening on Naboo" by @lucylucius_ on Twitter.https://twitter.com/lucylucius_/status/1284576103106056193?s=20Rey, Ben, and baby relaxing in a hammock by the lake on Naboo.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo
Comments: 21
Kudos: 155





	Floating and Bliss

**Author's Note:**

> I love this prompt! And this made me ridiculously happy to write. 😊

"Evening on Naboo" by @lucylucius_ on Twitter

~*~

Enjoying the water had not come naturally to her. Before coming to live here, her experiences with bodies of water had been less than enjoyable. The dark, mysterious ocean surrounding Ahch-To filled with eerie amphibious creatures. She had avoided those depths. Her descent into the icy cave had been enough of that unpleasantness for one lifetime. On Kef Bir, the tumultuous, violent waves had left her battered and bruised before she even reached the wreckage of the second Death Star. Water was cold. Water was cruel and it heeded no master and gave no quarter to land creatures who violated its supremacy.

But then they had moved to Naboo and the clear, calm lake behind their home appeared inviting, a vast, sparkling gemstone set in a haven of trees and grass and sand. The first time she and Ben had walked along the edge of the water, hand-in-hand, she had only dipped her feet in up to her ankles. It was warm and she could see her toes beneath the water sinking into the sand, disturbing a school of tiny, brightly-colored fish. When Ben had suggested they go swimming, she’d only ventured out waist-deep. She didn’t actually know how to swim properly and he’d been patient with her, holding her hands and leading her out slowly. He’d explained floating and the mechanics of swimming both over and under the water. It took only a week until she was absolutely enamored with swimming.

She didn’t have his stamina in the water yet and when she grew tired, she would lounge on the soft grass, watching him. Ben swimming along the shore of the lake was quite possibly the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The sunlight glinted along the powerful muscles of his back and arms as he stroked forward, and then he would flip over and float face-up, eyes closed, face peaceful. She would close her eyes and reach out to him, sharing in the quiet meditation, luxuriating in the simple joy of their bond. Of being home. Of being his. 

She remembered the first time she’d fallen asleep there. She’d woken up to find him kneeling over her, his legs straddling her hips. He was smiling down at her and the sunlight behind his head made his black hair glow as it fell around his face in wet locks. He’d leaned down to kiss her, gently. She gave a little moan, reaching up to bury her hands in his thick hair. She could kiss him forever and it would never be long enough. 

Unhurried, his kiss deepened and he lifted one hand off the grass to cup her hip before slowly running his fingers up her bare side, over her breast, along her clavicle, and over to the swimming suit strap on her shoulder. He lowered himself back onto her thighs, trailing one finger down the strap of her top and along the edge of the fabric over the mound of her breast. His eyes had gone smoky as he held her gaze, rubbing his thumb over her nipple. She squirmed, her breath quickening as her nipples hardened. They weren’t all that had hardened, she felt through his snug swim shorts.

He pulled the fabric down, releasing the pink peak, and lowered his mouth to suckle as he slid his hand to the other side, caressing over then under the damp fabric. She gasped, arching her back, pressing her herself as close to him as she could get. He switched his mouth to the other side, ripping the top from her and slinging it to the side. Her nipples were sensitive and he knew it. She writhed beneath him, moaning, gasping, and he loved it. When she could stand it no longer, he raised up, dark eyes shining with desire, and trailed his fingertips down her abdomen to the top of her suit bottom where he fingered the fabric lightly along the edge. She moved her hips entreatingly, but with his legs straddling hers, she couldn’t open her legs to invite his fingers where she wanted them next. As if he didn’t already know. He leaned back just enough to slide his thumb between her legs, massaging her there in gentle circles. She was wet and hard and he honed in on that throbbing little nub. She cried out, desperate to spread her legs, to fling him back onto the ground and mount him and ride him, or to pull him from his shorts and work him into a frenzy of need like her. 

Leaning back a little farther, he slid two fingers under the fabric between her legs and plunged them inside her. That was it. She was going to explode. She reached for him with a desperate groan, but he was quick. Moving back and away from her, he slid the bottom of her suit off in one swift move as he parted her legs with his knees. Releasing his hard length from the shorts, he drove himself inside her with a satisfied grunt. There was no slow and gentle start this time. He pounded inside her, fast and rough and deep. Just like she liked it. 

She felt her climax rising and she pulled her knees up to angle her hips and hold it off as long as possible. But he just thrust all the harder and drove her over the edge with a look of feral satisfaction. Before her cries of release had even burned from her throat, he lifted her onto his lap so that her knees were on either side of his and grabbed her waist, grinding her wet and swollen sex onto his cock. Without missing a beat, she shifted her angle to gain momentum and rode him as fast and hard as the pounding he had given her. He never lasted long in this position, and he buried his face in her neck when his guttural cry of release came. 

She slowed, easing him down, and took his mouth against hers with bruising force. He crushed her against his chest, consuming her with the kiss until they both needed to breathe. Panting, she pulled away, lifting her hands to caress his face as he stroked her back and bare bottom. 

It had taken time for him to relax into spontaneity. She never doubted his love and he trusted her implicitly, but vulnerability had not come easy for him. He’d struggled with nightmares and guilt and grief and there were times he had to walk away, but he tried so hard. He wanted to be a good husband and, with time and patience, he’d learned to live in the moment and accept happiness wherever it was offered him. 

“Let’s float,” she’d said, standing on shaky legs to lead him to the water. 

They waded out until it was shoulder deep for him and he turned, pulling her in. She wrapped her arms around his chest and her legs around his waist and, resting her head on his shoulder, they floated. This was her happy place. Floating with him. 

~*~

The gentle swinging of the hammock reminded her of floating in the water. Resting her head on Ben’s shoulder, she smiled softly at the memory of that day that had come back so vividly. It was the day they’d made their son. 

The baby snuffled in his sleep and Ben pulled him up onto his chest, whispering a sweet, soothing coo. He loved sleeping like this and she loved watching them. She remembered back to the day he’d been born. Her powerful, massive husband had wept openly when the midwife placed the newborn in his arms. He’d held him, red and new and squishy, and promised him that he would never send him away. That he would always know love. That he would never feel alone. That he could be whatever he wanted to be and that his father would die to keep those promises.

Even now, late at night, she would wake up and find him walking around in the silent house with the tiny baby asleep on his broad shoulder. Ben murmured to him while cupping his downy head, pressing his lips to those soft baby cheeks. She never eavesdropped, but she knew that Ben was telling him stories. Of the love that had brought him into the world. Of how he would teach him to swim in the lake and fish along the shore. Of how he would be protected and there would be no voices inside his head to torment him. 

In the hammock, she sighed, pressing closer to Ben and resting her hand on her baby’s warm back. Ben turned to kiss her forehead and his hand engulfed hers, cradling their son. This was perfection. This floating in the air with her precious family. This home they made, this love they shared, this…was bliss.


End file.
